What the canons of beauty transmit is an idea of taking care of

Hear the voice of Bianca Balti, who speaks not merely of appearance, but of the deeper truth of life itself: “What the canons of beauty transmit is an idea of taking care of yourself. Eating well, living healthily, doing sports. It’s a way to highlight the natural beauty in each of us. The natural body that all of us are born with.” These words, spoken from the world of fashion, echo with wisdom that transcends the runway, wisdom that could have been sung by the poets of antiquity or inscribed in the philosophies of the ancients.

When she speaks of the canons of beauty, Balti does not refer to shallow adornments or passing fashions. She points to something older, something almost sacred: the principles that teach us to honor the body. The ancients too had their canons—mathematical proportions that sought harmony in sculpture, architecture, and human form. But beyond mathematics, these canons were about balance, about living in a way that honors both flesh and spirit. For the body is not a garment to be hidden or flaunted; it is a vessel of life, and to care for it is an act of reverence.

Her words on eating well and living healthily strike at the core of true beauty. The face glows not from paint but from nourishment; the body stands strong not from artifice but from discipline. Just as the Greeks spoke of kalokagathia—the union of physical beauty and moral goodness—Balti reminds us that beauty is not a mask but the outward reflection of inward harmony. The athlete who trains, the farmer who eats from the fruit of his own labor, the one who sleeps in peace—all carry a radiance that cosmetics alone cannot bestow.

We see this truth mirrored in history. Consider Sparta, where youth were trained in both body and spirit. Their beauty was not one of ornament but of strength, endurance, and simplicity. Or think of Roman matrons, who were praised not for painted faces but for lives of moderation and discipline, for embodying virtues that made their households flourish. In both cases, natural beauty was seen not as something to be manufactured, but as something to be revealed through care, through health, through integrity of living.

Balti’s reminder that each of us is born with a natural body speaks against the modern temptation to despise ourselves, to compare endlessly, to carve or disguise what is already sacred. The truth she voices is that beauty is not imported; it is uncovered. Just as marble needs only the sculptor’s careful hand to release the form within, so too the body needs only nourishment, movement, and respect to shine in its truest form.

The deeper meaning is this: beauty is not competition, but stewardship. It is not the domination of the body to meet an impossible standard, but the honoring of the body so that its natural harmony may be seen. In this way, beauty becomes accessible to all, for all are born with a form that, cared for, can radiate health and dignity. To live in this understanding is to free oneself from the tyranny of fashion’s constant shifting, and to walk instead in timeless balance.

The lesson, then, is clear. If you would be truly beautiful, do not begin with powders or mirrors. Begin with care: eat well, move your body, breathe deeply, rest fully, and treat your vessel with respect. By doing so, you awaken the natural beauty that is already yours. The practical action is simple but profound: choose foods that strengthen, not weaken; dedicate time each day to sports or movement; cultivate habits that honor life rather than diminish it.

Thus, Balti’s words, though spoken in our time, belong to all ages. They remind us that beauty is not invention but revelation. It is not painted on the skin, but cultivated through the way we live. And those who understand this will shine with a radiance that does not fade, for it is the radiance of health, of balance, and of truth itself.